


Lost in the Desert

by yuki_onna_sicarius



Series: Reks and Rasler drabbles [1]
Category: Final Fantasy XII
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-31
Updated: 2017-05-31
Packaged: 2018-11-07 11:43:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11058234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yuki_onna_sicarius/pseuds/yuki_onna_sicarius
Summary: Lost on his way to Rabanastre, Rasler must ask for help from the first person he meets





	Lost in the Desert

**Author's Note:**

> I have honestly no clue what I'm doing in this chapter, so it's a mess XD This got away from me and I just went with it

Lost. It's the only word to describe Rasler and his entourage at that moment. Lost in the Dalmascan desert on their way to Rabanastre to meet Princess Ashe, with limited resources and possibly a long way to go still. He couldn't believe his luck.

On top of all of that, he hadn't seen another person out and about for days. He wasn't sure what that meant, whether there was no one living out here in this area of the desert, or something more sinister, but he couldn't shake the feeling that it wasn't good.

"My lord," one of the guards called, "perhaps we should stop for a moment to think."

"Yes," Rasler replied with a nod. He dismounted his chocobo and watched his guard slink off, the hot sun beating down on him.

With the limited resources they had came limited food. Some of the guards went out to hunt for some meat while some cooks that had come with began to boil some of the remaining broth they had. Morale was plummeting, and even Rasler wanted to turn back and go home. He sighed in exasperation as he watched his guards and advisers bicker with one another.

"Lovely day to be lost," an unfamiliar voice whispered in Rasler's ear. His head snapped around to see a man in leather armor stroking his chocobo, ash-blonde hair shining in the afternoon sun. "I've found the desert tends to be harshest during the afternoon, when the sun is highest."

"Who are you?" Rasler asked. He then noticed the blood covering the man's armor. "You're covered in blood."

"Don't worry, it's not mine." The man tilted his head with a teasing smile, which made the prince uneasy. If it wasn't his blood, then whose?

"I'll ask again, who are you?"

"You're no fun," the man commented, his face falling into a slight pout. He sighed and crossed his arms. "I'm a hunter from Rabanastre," the man explained. "Clan Centurio."

"Excuse me?"

"Clan Centurio. The hunter's clan I'm from."

Rasler's face continued to look the picture of confusion, so the hunter sighed and shook his head.

"You royals are a piece of work, aren't you?" he commented. "The best hunters are part of clans. The one I'm a part of is the one based in Rabanastre, led by Montblanc."

"Alright," Rasler replied, nodding his head. The hunter opened his mouth to say more when someone yelled at them.

"Who are you!?" a guard yelled, pointing an accusing finger at the hunter, who sighed once more, but didn't really seem at all bothered. Rasler waved a dismissive hand at the guard, who stood up straighter, as if waiting for a command.

The whole camp was looking at the newcomer now, but he didn't seem to notice. The hunter's eyes were solely on Rasler, who was beginning to feel a bit unnerved. There was something about those pale blue eyes that he couldn't explain, something that made him feel uneasy.

"You're lost, right?" the hunter asked, snapping Rasler from his thoughts. The prince could only nod. "Alright, I'll help you out. On one condition.

Of course there was a condition.

"What is this condition?" Rasler asked. The hunter smirked and stroked the chocobo's feather.

"A ride home," the hunter replied simply. "I've been out here for about five days and I'm tired."

"A simple request," Rasler replied. "It can be arranged."

"I want to ride this chocobo," the hunter added, mounting the chocobo. "I like her and she likes me." Again, he stroked the chocobo's feathers, though this time he offered her some gysahl greens as an offering.

Rasler's mouth fell open to protest, but for a moment, he couldn't find his voice. "That's  _my_ chocobo," he said once he did. The hunter just smirked again.

"Not anymore, she's not. Like I said, she likes me. Now find another one so I can show you how to get out of here. Unless you want to ride with me."

Rasler, while not often the subject of teasing, knew when someone was flirting with him. He noticed the growing smirk, the suggestive eyebrow raise, even how the hunter moved forward slightly on the saddle, inviting him to join. He raised his own, unamused, eyebrow before turning to his captain of the guard.

"Captain, I will be taking your chocobo," he announced and mounted the creature, ignoring the captain's protests. "Lead the way, hunter."

"Gladly," the hunter replied and took the reigns firmly in his hands.

The hunter led Rasler up to a high cliff that overlooked the camp, but also overlooked much of the desert. The hunter pointed something out, something far off, which Rasler realized to be the Rabanastre skyline.

"Just keep going North," the hunter said. "You'll need to watch out for the fiends, though. Are you much of a fighter?"

"Not really," Rasler replied. "Though I can fight any monsters that might attack us."

The hunter nodded, a soft "good" leaving his lips. He smiled, genuinely smiled, as he looked at the city, and Rasler couldn't help but smile at him.

"You didn't give me your name," the prince commented after a few moments. The hunter turned to look at him, before nodding.

"I guess I didn't."

Rasler looked at him expectantly. The hunter looked back at him, the same expression on his face.

"You never told me yours, either."

"You don't know my name?"

"I never said that. You just never told me what it is."

"I'm Prince Rasler. Your name is?"

The hunter looked off for a moment, as if contemplating his answer. Then another smile graced his lips. "Guess," he said.

Rasler looked at him in annoyance. "I gave you my name. It is customary to give yours in return."

"I'll let you know if you guess it. That's fair, right?" Rasler sighed in exasperation. He hated guessing games, he was never very good at them. Instead, he just stared at the hunter, waiting for a reply. What he got was a chuckle as the hunter turned around.

"It's Reks!" he called as he rode off, back to the camp.

"Reks," Rasler said, testing the name on his tongue before following him.

**Author's Note:**

> I want to thank mimeus for giving me this wonderful couple and the inspiration for all that's going to come after this. Please check out their story, A Single Grain, because it is amazing.


End file.
